a new year
Esteemed greetings, salutations, and love from the outlands.
Hey guys. It's been a LFT since I posted in here. I've been using Facebook to keep in touch with people, mostly, and I have been run so ragged in the last year that it's been hard to set it all down in depth. I've had a great time, and I wouldn't trade it for anything, but I do find myself longing for a little more stability, a little more permanence. In the midst of all this adventure, I've awakened a desire for (gasp) simple things that last, and a lunatic feeling of destiny. And seeing as the ringing of a new year is usually the time for retrospective consideration, I guess I'll just get right to it. Prepare yourself to be assailed with a lot of superlatives...
As of my last update, I was still bosun on the Hawaiian Chieftain. That contract worked me harder than any job I've ever had. I went 45 days straight without a day off, and I still managed to maintain some semblance of a work ethic, despite becoming sloppy, lethargic, and dead tired at times. Despite these hardships, I saw some unforgettable things on that tour, had a stirring love affair, and made some excellent friends. It also provided me with contacts and more work. Thanks to my then-captain, I went from being bosun on the Chief to the same position on the Lynx, a prestigious, much better-run/sailed schooner out of Newport Beach, CA. I did a two month relief contract on her during the spring, and was asked back for a full-length four month contract in the fall.
What came next was quite unexpected. One of my shipmates on the Chief was a Waldo-esque guy from Chicago named Alex Bergo. We became very close friends over the course of the tour, and he kept encouraging me to come and work at this "hippie summer camp" that he was involved with in central Maine. So I gave it a shot, and applied. What began as sort of a lark, a break from boats to prevent me from burning out, became one of the most meaningful experiences I've ever had. Camp Hawthorne is an amazing anachronism- a small, non-denominational family camp staffed by friends, on what is basically an island in a pristine lake in Maine. The campers ranged from priviledged kids from Tribeca to crazy, artsy Santa Cruzians from California, to poor Mainers from down the street.
What makes Hawthorne unique is that we trust the kids a lot more than other camps, in the age of liability. We let them plan the activities, and what ever comes to mind is usually allowed, assuming it's safe and non-exclusive. Activities like mud puddle jumping, wandering minstrelry and sock wars were the norm. We also took the kids sailing on schooners, rafting the Allagash, and hiking in the back country. The staff was the most amazing part, however. The camp drew these amazing people from every conceivable background and lifestyle. I felt awed to be a part of such company- honored to be a part of such a community, and I can't wait to see them again. I even came all the way back up to Maine for the camp new years' party, because it's looking more and more like I won't be able to return next summer, and I couldn't bear the thought of going so long without seeing these people again. Camp was amelioration- balm for the soul, heart, and head. I came out of with a clearer idea of who I was, and lot more perspective on life.
Almost immediately after I got back to Atlanta from camp, I flew back out to the West Coast, this time to Seattle to meet Lynx. What followed was the best contract I've ever worked on a boat, during which I traveled from Seattle to San Diego, a journey of over 1,100 miles by sea. The memories fo this intense four month period are still gelling in my brain even now...
I drove and hiked around the shoulders of Rainier amidst trees of baffling size and density. I saw sunrise over Mt. St. Helens, and sailed the entire length of the Columbia river from Astoria to Portland, OR. I went more than 100 miles offshore for the first time. I saw a shoal of over 30 pilot whales off Point Reyes. I watched the Blue Angels roar overhead at 500 feet, from the deck of a tall ship under sail during Fleet Week in San Francisco. I had one of the scariest days of my entire life in Morro Bay. I watched world class surfers compete from fifty yards away at the Cold Water Classic in Santa Cruz. I I hiked Catalina Island during the San Diego fires with ash dusting the ground, even though we were ninety miles away. I swam under Lynx's keel while at anchor in a kelp forest. I sailed in tandem with three enormous tall ships, one of which is over 140 years old. I met a woman with whom I am ludicrously compatible and deeply interested in, and we're making a go of it, despite the distance. We hauled Lynx out of the water and did twenty one straight days of intense maintenance, of which I had a supervisory role. I inhaled diesel fumes and colloidal silica, probably shortening my lifespan. Finally, I spent the weekend before Christmas with Marann and her family, who are absolutely awesome. The crew I worked with was intensely positive, intelligent, and fun loving. I'll miss their company and their laughter, and I hope that my life crosses their paths again, and soon.
I spent the holidays at home with my family in Georgia, where there was love, gift-giving and bickering, as usual. We've built a house in the mountains of North Georgia, and it's far superior to our lifeless box in Roswell. I did some slave labor there for my dad, to offset the cost of rent. It feels like a home, and I can already see the positive effect it has on my family. It has mountains, a lake, golf for my dad, antique stores for my mom, and they designed the house around their needs. It's perfect for them, and not to shabby in my opinion- we counted fifteen deer in the yard the day I moved my stuff in, and it's nice and quiet. I've come to understand my family more as time passes, and I don't mind their habits so much anymore. They love me, and I love them. That's all I need from family.
As the final hurrah of the year, I flew up to Maine to hang out with the camp people. As if by serendipity, everything came together in the most satisfying way possible. I miss New England, in a way that transcends familiarity. This is my homeland, and the roots I put down here still persist. I exalt to see tne sight of snow on trees, of old brownbrick, of simple homes on sloping hills, of salt air and pine pitch. I wandered around Boston a little, took the train to Portland, wandered there a bit more and caught a movie. Then I went straight into an evening out with Bergo and some friends, including karaoke. While we were in the bar, it started to snow, and by the time we headed home, bundled up in our peacoats and scarves, the snow was coming down hard and already an inch deep. This, of course, resulted in a running snowball fight throughout the streets of brown-brick harbor town Portland. New years' eve consisted of tasty brunch, napping, provisioning for the party, and the party itself, which drew people from as far away as Texas, Washington and California. It was a great time, a party for the ages, with sledding, snowball fights, good food, and jello shots. I'll miss these people. It was phenomenal to see them, especially since I won't be coming back to camp this year. Yesterday, we recovered, had another amazing meal on the wharf, and went to the more dignified New Years' party that the camp director was throwing. It snowed again, giving me yet another dose of winter ecstasy. And today, for the first time in probably a month, I was allowed to be lazy. I slept, rested, and did generally nothing except write this entry, and it was nothing short of glorious.
I fly home on friday, and I don't have a clue what my plans are from now until late April, which is a little terrifying- four whole months without any plans. I don't know what I'll do with myself. I might do some yacht deliveries (150$ a day, cash, sometimes), but nothing is certain until May. I was offered the gig of a lifetime for this summer- bosun, on Lynx, during the Tall Ships Pacific Challenge, which I gladly accepted. Despite the fact that I thought I was done with tall ships, they drew me back with the opportunity to sail as the caretaker of the sexiest schooner in North America, in the company of enormous ships and excellent shipmates, through some of the most beautiful waterways on the planet. And best of all, my parents are planning a vacation to come and see what I do for a living. I'm very excited, and a little sad - I won't be able to see Marann as often or come back to camp until 2009 - but I think that it will be worth it.
Marann is a powerful new force in my life as well. She's a former professional figure skater turned tall-ship sailor and sometimes screenwriter. She came along at precisely the right moment, when I was finally admitting to myself that what I wanted most was a partner- someone who could be a best friend, an ally-in-crime, and a lover. She's older than me, but I don't really feel a difference between us. We feel an intense connection to each other, we're good for one another, and we make each other laugh. She gets me, and she doesn't fill me with a fear of the future. There's something powerful and amazing about our relationship. We'll see where, or how, this goes, but I'm very optimistic.
So anyways, that's my year. It was a good one, as years go, with a lot of learning, growth, and experience, with a minimum of drama and angst. I can only hope that the next one will continue the trend. Post-summer, I think I'll be getting an apartment in Seattle with a buddy of mine and trying to get a real job so I can save some money. Graduate school, the video game industry, professional writing, wooden boatbuilding school- anything could happen. As the saying goes, "the suspense is killing me... I hope it lasts."
I miss my friends, from New England to Florida, from Boston to Los Angeles. I hope everyone is doing well, and walking a good path. I will make efforts to come see as many of you as I can in the coming year, but you know how things are sometimes. Just know that I'm thinking of you, and fondly. Happy New Year.
Love,
-JP Wickham.
Hey guys. It's been a LFT since I posted in here. I've been using Facebook to keep in touch with people, mostly, and I have been run so ragged in the last year that it's been hard to set it all down in depth. I've had a great time, and I wouldn't trade it for anything, but I do find myself longing for a little more stability, a little more permanence. In the midst of all this adventure, I've awakened a desire for (gasp) simple things that last, and a lunatic feeling of destiny. And seeing as the ringing of a new year is usually the time for retrospective consideration, I guess I'll just get right to it. Prepare yourself to be assailed with a lot of superlatives...
As of my last update, I was still bosun on the Hawaiian Chieftain. That contract worked me harder than any job I've ever had. I went 45 days straight without a day off, and I still managed to maintain some semblance of a work ethic, despite becoming sloppy, lethargic, and dead tired at times. Despite these hardships, I saw some unforgettable things on that tour, had a stirring love affair, and made some excellent friends. It also provided me with contacts and more work. Thanks to my then-captain, I went from being bosun on the Chief to the same position on the Lynx, a prestigious, much better-run/sailed schooner out of Newport Beach, CA. I did a two month relief contract on her during the spring, and was asked back for a full-length four month contract in the fall.
What came next was quite unexpected. One of my shipmates on the Chief was a Waldo-esque guy from Chicago named Alex Bergo. We became very close friends over the course of the tour, and he kept encouraging me to come and work at this "hippie summer camp" that he was involved with in central Maine. So I gave it a shot, and applied. What began as sort of a lark, a break from boats to prevent me from burning out, became one of the most meaningful experiences I've ever had. Camp Hawthorne is an amazing anachronism- a small, non-denominational family camp staffed by friends, on what is basically an island in a pristine lake in Maine. The campers ranged from priviledged kids from Tribeca to crazy, artsy Santa Cruzians from California, to poor Mainers from down the street.
What makes Hawthorne unique is that we trust the kids a lot more than other camps, in the age of liability. We let them plan the activities, and what ever comes to mind is usually allowed, assuming it's safe and non-exclusive. Activities like mud puddle jumping, wandering minstrelry and sock wars were the norm. We also took the kids sailing on schooners, rafting the Allagash, and hiking in the back country. The staff was the most amazing part, however. The camp drew these amazing people from every conceivable background and lifestyle. I felt awed to be a part of such company- honored to be a part of such a community, and I can't wait to see them again. I even came all the way back up to Maine for the camp new years' party, because it's looking more and more like I won't be able to return next summer, and I couldn't bear the thought of going so long without seeing these people again. Camp was amelioration- balm for the soul, heart, and head. I came out of with a clearer idea of who I was, and lot more perspective on life.
Almost immediately after I got back to Atlanta from camp, I flew back out to the West Coast, this time to Seattle to meet Lynx. What followed was the best contract I've ever worked on a boat, during which I traveled from Seattle to San Diego, a journey of over 1,100 miles by sea. The memories fo this intense four month period are still gelling in my brain even now...
I drove and hiked around the shoulders of Rainier amidst trees of baffling size and density. I saw sunrise over Mt. St. Helens, and sailed the entire length of the Columbia river from Astoria to Portland, OR. I went more than 100 miles offshore for the first time. I saw a shoal of over 30 pilot whales off Point Reyes. I watched the Blue Angels roar overhead at 500 feet, from the deck of a tall ship under sail during Fleet Week in San Francisco. I had one of the scariest days of my entire life in Morro Bay. I watched world class surfers compete from fifty yards away at the Cold Water Classic in Santa Cruz. I I hiked Catalina Island during the San Diego fires with ash dusting the ground, even though we were ninety miles away. I swam under Lynx's keel while at anchor in a kelp forest. I sailed in tandem with three enormous tall ships, one of which is over 140 years old. I met a woman with whom I am ludicrously compatible and deeply interested in, and we're making a go of it, despite the distance. We hauled Lynx out of the water and did twenty one straight days of intense maintenance, of which I had a supervisory role. I inhaled diesel fumes and colloidal silica, probably shortening my lifespan. Finally, I spent the weekend before Christmas with Marann and her family, who are absolutely awesome. The crew I worked with was intensely positive, intelligent, and fun loving. I'll miss their company and their laughter, and I hope that my life crosses their paths again, and soon.
I spent the holidays at home with my family in Georgia, where there was love, gift-giving and bickering, as usual. We've built a house in the mountains of North Georgia, and it's far superior to our lifeless box in Roswell. I did some slave labor there for my dad, to offset the cost of rent. It feels like a home, and I can already see the positive effect it has on my family. It has mountains, a lake, golf for my dad, antique stores for my mom, and they designed the house around their needs. It's perfect for them, and not to shabby in my opinion- we counted fifteen deer in the yard the day I moved my stuff in, and it's nice and quiet. I've come to understand my family more as time passes, and I don't mind their habits so much anymore. They love me, and I love them. That's all I need from family.
As the final hurrah of the year, I flew up to Maine to hang out with the camp people. As if by serendipity, everything came together in the most satisfying way possible. I miss New England, in a way that transcends familiarity. This is my homeland, and the roots I put down here still persist. I exalt to see tne sight of snow on trees, of old brownbrick, of simple homes on sloping hills, of salt air and pine pitch. I wandered around Boston a little, took the train to Portland, wandered there a bit more and caught a movie. Then I went straight into an evening out with Bergo and some friends, including karaoke. While we were in the bar, it started to snow, and by the time we headed home, bundled up in our peacoats and scarves, the snow was coming down hard and already an inch deep. This, of course, resulted in a running snowball fight throughout the streets of brown-brick harbor town Portland. New years' eve consisted of tasty brunch, napping, provisioning for the party, and the party itself, which drew people from as far away as Texas, Washington and California. It was a great time, a party for the ages, with sledding, snowball fights, good food, and jello shots. I'll miss these people. It was phenomenal to see them, especially since I won't be coming back to camp this year. Yesterday, we recovered, had another amazing meal on the wharf, and went to the more dignified New Years' party that the camp director was throwing. It snowed again, giving me yet another dose of winter ecstasy. And today, for the first time in probably a month, I was allowed to be lazy. I slept, rested, and did generally nothing except write this entry, and it was nothing short of glorious.
I fly home on friday, and I don't have a clue what my plans are from now until late April, which is a little terrifying- four whole months without any plans. I don't know what I'll do with myself. I might do some yacht deliveries (150$ a day, cash, sometimes), but nothing is certain until May. I was offered the gig of a lifetime for this summer- bosun, on Lynx, during the Tall Ships Pacific Challenge, which I gladly accepted. Despite the fact that I thought I was done with tall ships, they drew me back with the opportunity to sail as the caretaker of the sexiest schooner in North America, in the company of enormous ships and excellent shipmates, through some of the most beautiful waterways on the planet. And best of all, my parents are planning a vacation to come and see what I do for a living. I'm very excited, and a little sad - I won't be able to see Marann as often or come back to camp until 2009 - but I think that it will be worth it.
Marann is a powerful new force in my life as well. She's a former professional figure skater turned tall-ship sailor and sometimes screenwriter. She came along at precisely the right moment, when I was finally admitting to myself that what I wanted most was a partner- someone who could be a best friend, an ally-in-crime, and a lover. She's older than me, but I don't really feel a difference between us. We feel an intense connection to each other, we're good for one another, and we make each other laugh. She gets me, and she doesn't fill me with a fear of the future. There's something powerful and amazing about our relationship. We'll see where, or how, this goes, but I'm very optimistic.
So anyways, that's my year. It was a good one, as years go, with a lot of learning, growth, and experience, with a minimum of drama and angst. I can only hope that the next one will continue the trend. Post-summer, I think I'll be getting an apartment in Seattle with a buddy of mine and trying to get a real job so I can save some money. Graduate school, the video game industry, professional writing, wooden boatbuilding school- anything could happen. As the saying goes, "the suspense is killing me... I hope it lasts."
I miss my friends, from New England to Florida, from Boston to Los Angeles. I hope everyone is doing well, and walking a good path. I will make efforts to come see as many of you as I can in the coming year, but you know how things are sometimes. Just know that I'm thinking of you, and fondly. Happy New Year.
Love,
-JP Wickham.